Well his excellence fame confesses, All through Erin his praise is sung; Three the hues of his high-piled tresses; Beardless yet, and a stripling young. Red his blade, it hath late been blooded; Shines above it its silver hilt; Golden bosses his shield have studded, Round its rim the white bronze is spilt. O'er the slain in each slaughter striding, War he seeketh, at risk would snatch: Heroes keen in your ranks are riding, None of these is Cuchulain's match. From Murthemne he comes, we greet him, Young Cuchulain, the champion strong; We, compelled from afar to meet him, Daughters all of Aed Abra, throng. Every tree, as a lordly token, Stands all stained with the red blood rain War that demons might wage is woken, Wails peal high as he raves again. Liban moreover bade a welcome to Cuchulain, and she chanted as follows: Hail to Cuchulain! Lord, who canst aid; Murthemne ruling, Mind undismayed; Hero-like, glorious, Heart great and still Battle-victorious, Firm rock of skill; Redly he rageth, Foemen would face; Battle he wageth Meet for his race! Brilliant his splendour, like maidens' eyes, Praises we render: praise shall arise! "Tell us now of the deeds thou hast done, O Cuchulain! cried Liban, and Cuchulain in this manner replied to her: From my hand flew a dart, as I made my cast, Through the host of Stream-Yeogan the javelin passed; Not at all did I know, though great fame was won, Who my victim had been, or what deed was done. Whether greater or less was his might than mine I have found not at all, nor can right divine; In a mist was he hid whom my spear would slay, Yet I know that he went not with life away. A great host on me closed, and on every side Rose around me in hordes the red steeds they ride; From Manannan, the Son of the Sea, came foes, From Stream-Yeogan to call them a roar arose. And I went to the battle with all at length, When my weakness had passed, and I gat full strength; And alone with three thousands the fight I fought, Till death to the foes whom I faced was brought. I heard Echaid Juil's groan, as he neared his end, The sound came to mine ears as from lips of friend; Yet, if truth must be told, 'twas no valiant deed, That cast that I threw, if 'twas thrown indeed. Now, after all these things had passed, Cuchulain slept with the lady, and he abode for a month in her company, and at the end of the month he came to bid her farewell. "Tell me," she said, "to what place I may go for our tryst, and I will be there;" and they made tryst at the strand that is known as the Strand of the Yew-Tree's Head.